


Oh What a Show

by airgeer



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airgeer/pseuds/airgeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt decides to go to a gay bar. Mercedes decides that she has to save him from himself. Puck helps. (Post S1, before the end of the school year)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh What a Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merkintosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merkintosh/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Oh What a Circus](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/19068) by Merkintosh. 



 

By the time June of her sophomore year rolled around, Mercedes had been bffs with Kurt Hummel for six months and approximately one week. That meant that the forever part of the acronym wasn’t strictly accurate, but it also meant that she felt comfortable enough to call him out when he got an idea in his head that had a greater than fifty-fifty chance of ending badly. If it was less than fifty-fifty, she’d go along with it for the entertainment value. (She had the sneaking suspicion that Kurt had been doing the same for her.)

 

This particular plan figured in at about 90-10 in favour of him being found dead in a gutter Sunday morning, and she had a moral obligation to stop him.

 

“You turn that car around right now,” she said firmly into her phone, not thinking for a second that he would listen at this point. “Or so help me god, I will-”

 

"You can't stop me, Mercedes. I'm going."

  
"It's a bad idea, Kurt. Any gay bar with  _Manhole_  in the name is a bad. idea.” Kurt didn’t reply, and she allowed herself to hope that he’d seen the light, that he finally understood that leaving town to go to a gay bar where he’d know absolutely no one was the worst decision he’d ever made (except for maybe the time he’d tried to talk about her colour coordination). That hope couldn’t stand, though, because the fact that he hadn’t told her about it until she’d called him and demanded to know what he was planning didn’t bode well for him changing his mind. It meant that he knew damn well it was stupid.

 

"I really don't care right now, Mercedes. It probably is a bad idea but dammit... I'd rather die in a gay bar than stay a virgin in Lima! Goodbye."

 

“Really, Kurt? _Really_?” He didn’t answer. “You better not have hung up on me, Hummel.” Still no answer. “Fine. You _go_ die in a gay bar, see if I care!” She tossed her phone onto her bed and stomped over to her desk, opening her biology text book with a violent thud. She had exams. She wasn’t going to go chase after some dumbass who wasn’t even smart enough to get a fake ID. He was going to get turned away at the door, and all he’d accomplish in the end was wasting a lot of gas driving to god-knows-where and back.

 

“Okay, Punnet squares,” she mumbled, skimming her eyes down the page. “Well, clearly being an idiot is a dominant trait. Maybe I can just follow him around and take notes instead of studying.” Her eyes were drawn to her phone, sitting on top of her covers innocently. Maybe she should call him back, make sure he had a plan for getting home.

 

“No, I’m studying biology,” she said firmly to herself. _So’s Kurt_ , her brain said sarcastically, and of course she could trust her own mind to sass her using the easiest joke possible. Of course.

 

“Mercy, honey, you okay in there?” her mom called through the door. “You sounded upset, do you want to talk?”

 

She could tell her mom, and her mom would call Kurt’s dad, and that would be the end of it, except that she’d never see Kurt again because his father would lock him in his room forever, possibly after killing him, and that would defeat the purpose of saving him entirely. “Just studying, Mom,” she said. “I, uh, didn’t get something and Kurt couldn’t help.”

 

Her mom opened the door a crack, smiling at her. “Well, not that I’m not glad you’re studying, hon, but maybe you should take a break if it’s getting you that upset. The boys are going to bed soon.”

 

“Okay, Mom, sorry,” Mercedes said, pasting on her most innocent smile. “I’ll keep it down.”

 

“Thank you, sweetie. Good luck, I’ll leave you to it.” Her mom shut the door quietly, and Mercedes looked back down at her book.

 

Biology wasn’t happening, not while she had no idea where Kurt was and was likely the only person in the world who knew how much trouble he was in. Except for everyone else at that bar. They knew _precisely_ how much trouble he was in. She pushed her textbook away, opening her laptop and typing _manhole_ into the search bar. She didn’t even know where in Ohio he was, so research was the first step.

 

Google showed her several pictures of manhole covers, along with several links to learn more about actual manholes, but nothing about a gay bar. Frowning, she added _ohio bar_ to the search, and turned off safe search as an afterthought. Maybe gay bars were harder to find on the internet than regular ones.

 

She still had nothing, the same frustrating pictures of manholes and links to construction companies mocking her with their lack of double entendre. It was time to call in the big guns.

 

Quinn picked up her phone on the third ring. “Hi-”

 

“I need your help. Kurt’s gone to a gay bar in another town, and it’s called the _Manhole_ , and I told him not to go but he did anyway and I don’t know what to do.”

 

“What.”

 

“I know! And he hung up on me, and if I just call him back and say “Kurt, I think your life choices leading you to this point could use some examination,” you know he’s just going to hang up again. So I need to find the bar and then I need to drag him out and beat some sense into him.”

 

“Okay.” Quinn sounded confused, but Mercedes didn’t think she could’ve been much clearer. “So…Kurt’s at a gay bar.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you want to find him, but you don’t know where it is?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“…It’s not that I don’t want to help, Mercedes, you know that I do, but I don’t know where any gay bars are, or how to find them. Did you try Google?”

 

“Of course I tried Google. Do you have any idea how many pictures of manholes there are on the internet?”

 

Quinn made a choking noise that sounded like either she’d stubbed her toe or stifled a laugh, and her voice was suspiciously high pitched when she said, “I can’t believe they called a bar that.”

 

“This is serious!” Mercedes insisted. “I can’t believe you’re laughing when Kurt could be getting murdered right now!”

 

“He’s probably not getting murdered, Mercedes,” Quinn said soothingly. “Gay people aren’t lions, they wouldn’t kill their own young. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

 

“You need to never use a biology analogy ever again, and ‘probably not getting murdered’ isn’t close enough to ‘definitely not getting murdered’, Quinn,” she hissed. “I’m really worried.”

 

“I can tell,” Quinn said dryly. “Look, maybe you should call Puck? He might know where it is.”

 

“Why would Puck know where a gay bar is?”

 

“He’s more likely to know than I am,” she said, and Mercedes could _hear_ her shrugging. “Oh, or you could call Rachel!” she suggested brightly. “She’s got two gay dads, they’ll know where it is.”

 

“I could do that, if I wanted Kurt’s dad to know that he snuck out to a bar because you better believe that he’d find out if anyone’s parents get involved.” Mercedes drummed her fingers on her legs, considering her options. “I guess I could call Puck,” she said reluctantly.

 

“Tell him I said to help you if he’s stubborn. I’d come with, but my mom is actually trying to parent these days, and if I break curfew once she’ll probably give up on me for good.”

 

“Quinn-”

 

“I’m fine, it’s fine. Call Puck, and let me know when you find Kurt.”

 

With that, Mercedes was hung up for the second time that night, but in a far more acceptable fashion. She’d let Quinn lick her wounds for a bit, and then she’d have her over for a sleepover and make her talk while she painted her toenails. It was impossible to escape when someone was painting your toenails.

 

She’d put Puck’s number into her phone when they’d been dating, but she’d never thought that she’d be calling him again. It was for Kurt, though, so she steeled herself and pressed call.

 

“Look, I swear I have no idea what you’re calling about, I never touched her.” Puck sounded a weird mix of panicked and monotonous, like he was reciting something that he’d said many many times before.

 

Mercedes paused, hoping that the crazy would dissipate with time, but he didn’t elaborate. “…Puck?”

 

“Uh, yes. I thought you’d be…someone else.”

 

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

 

“Nah, he’s all talk. All I have to do is keep moving for a couple days and he’ll give up. ‘Sup?”

 

Mercedes considered pressing him for details, but she didn’t actually want to know what or who Puck was doing, so she took the out. “I need to find a gay bar. It’s called Manhole?”

 

“Yeah, I know it,” Puck said after a moment of quiet. “Well, I know _of_ it, I’m not a giant homo so I’ve never been. I mostly just know so I won’t go accidentally.”

 

“You think there’s a risk that you’d walk into a bar called _Manhole_ and not know exactly what you were getting into?”

 

“It’s more about what I don’t want to be getting into, if you know what I mean.” He paused, then clarified, “I mean dudes. I don’t want to be in a dude’s pooper.”

 

“Yes Puck. I know. Where’s Manhole?” Mercedes cringed the moment she said it. “Please answer that with where the gay bar is. Please.”

 

“Fine. It’s in Findlay. Why do you need to know?”

 

“Kurt’s there by himself and I have to go get him before he gets in trouble. Thanks for the help.”

 

Mercedes was just about to end the call and get in a hang-up of her own when Puck said “Wait!”

 

“What? I said thanks, Findlay’s a long drive and I’ve got to go now.”

 

“But do you actually know where it is, or are you just going to drive around Findlay and hope you come across it? I’ve been in one place too long anyway, that dude might find me. I’ll take you out there, you can cockblock your boy, problem solved.”

 

“ _It’s not_ \- oh, I guess it kind of is cockblocking,” Mercedes admitted, her outrage short-lived. “It’s for his own good though.”

 

“The guys there are pretty big, actually,” Puck said, sounding almost concerned. That alone was enough to make Mercedes want to panic. Then he added, “Props to him, I guess,” and clearly it hadn’t been worry that she’d heard.

 

“Wait, how do you know the guys there are big if you’ve never been?”

 

“I drove past it once. A couple times. Maybe five. I was curious!” Puck said, quickly working himself up into a defensive froth.

 

“Okay, easy, I wasn’t judging.”

 

 “Whatever, I’m like five minutes from your house, I’ll be there soon.”

 

Puck knowing where she lived was another relic of their week-long relationship, and all Mercedes could do was hope that he didn’t use that knowledge for evil. He hadn’t so far, but it was still Puck.

 

“I’ll meet you out front.”

 

~

 

“Puck, you know how I feel about videogames, and I’m sure that Luigi is much better than Mario, but I swear to god that if you keep talking about him I’m going to find the angry husband you’re hiding from and tell him where you are.”

 

“I thought chicks liked guys that talk.” Puck sounded wounded, despite the fact that Mercedes had been begging him to shut up about his video games in increasingly less subtle terms for almost an hour. It had been interspersed with bits and pieces of information about why he was trying to avoid that man, but the conversation had been overwhelmingly about videogames.

 

“They do, but you have to talk about things that the other person cares about too, otherwise you get a Rachel talking in glee situation.”

 

“…I’m Rachel?”

 

“That was actually worse than some of what Rachel does, because I’m a captive audience. You can always get up and leave the choir room.”

 

Puck shuddered, and Mercedes wondered if she’d just managed to teach him consideration. “I don’t want to be Rachel.”

 

“Then _please_ stop talking about videogames.”

 

Mercedes watched the buildings of Findlay pass by, streetlights casting shadows on the few people who were still walking around. The dashboard clock said it was well after 11, not too terribly late, but there didn’t seem to be anything but apartment buildings in the area of town they were in.

 

“I can’t think of anything but videogames now,” Puck admitted.

 

“That’s nice. Are you sure you know where we’re going? This doesn’t really look like the place for a bar.”

 

“Duh, they can’t put a gay bar with regular bars, it’s like illegal or something.”

 

“Oh,” Mercedes said, feeling foolish. “I didn’t know that. Why?”

 

“I dunno, but I heard it from this dude I know, so it’s probably true.”

 

“I think that probably makes it less likely to be true.” There was a neon sign up ahead, _Manhole_ glowing across it in neat cursive and the outline of a manhole cover below it. “There it is.” She tried not to let the surprise that they’d actually made it there come through in her voice. Judging from the look on Puck’s face, she’d failed miserably.

 

“Yeah, well, I said I knew where it was,” he said sulkily.

 

Mercedes patted him on the arm hesitantly. “I’m sorry for doubting you. Thanks for driving me here, I couldn’t have found it on my own.”

 

Puck shrugged, but he looked appeased. They found an empty spot in the lot among the motorcycles and big trucks, Puck’s beat up car badly out of place. “You should just let me do the talking,” Puck suggested smugly. “I know all about getting into bars.”

 

“As long as we get Kurt out, I don’t care,” Mercedes said. “Go for it, just try not be too insulting. Don’t call anyone a homo.”

 

The bouncer was enormous and bald and muscular and tattooed, and even the way he was shaking his head as they approached was intimidating, though that was probably intentional. Mercedes was terrified of him, but she’d come too far to give up.

 

“Go home kids.”

 

“We’re not kids,” Puck said indignantly. “We’re both twenty-two, and also homos. Uh, sexual. Homosexuals. And stuff.”

 

“Uh huh. Let’s see some ID, then.”

 

Mercedes automatically reached for her wallet, but Puck grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “I left my driver’s license in the car, can’t you just let us in?”

 

“Nope.” He stared down at them impassively. “Go and get it.”

 

“Fine, we will.” Puck pulled Mercedes with him as he stalked away, and she let him, casting a look back at the door of the bar. Kurt was in there, and Puck had given up so easily.

 

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “I thought you knew how to get into bars! Why would you say we were “homos-uh-sexual”? That’s not even a word!”

 

“Hey, you said not to say homo!” Puck said. “I didn’t see you helping!”

 

“ _You_ said to let you do the talking!”

 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve known when to use your boobs to get in instead of relying on me to do everything.”

 

“This is a _gay bar_ , Puck, he’s not interested in _my_ boobs.” The bouncer was smirking openly when she looked back, and Mercedes had had more than enough. “Okay, that’s it.”

 

She stormed back to the bouncer, stopping just a little inside his reach. “Hi,” she said before he could speak. “You got us, we’re sixteen and not gay, I’m not sure why we were lying. My best friend said that he was coming here, and he’s sixteen too, and I’m really worried about him. Could you maybe just let me in so I can retrieve his sorry ass?”

 

“No, that’s illegal,” the bouncer said, but he’d lost the stern expression as she explained and now looked sympathetic. Well, the line between his eyebrows was gone, even if his mouth was still curved into a frown, and that was close enough to sympathetic for her. “You got a picture of him? We do the best we can to keep kids out, but he might’ve slipped through. Come to think, there was a kid I turned away tonight, too. Could’ve been your friend.”

 

Mercedes pulled out her phone, unlocking it and holding it up so the bouncer could see her background picture of her and Kurt in the choir room before glee. “The one that isn’t me,” she said.

 

“Nope. Kid was here had darker hair, and he had these thick eyebrows, I remember because they looked like he’d lost a bet. Could your boy be wearing fake eyebrows, looked like this?” The bouncer held a crooked finger over his eyes.

 

“No, he would never,” Mercedes said, her shoulders sagging. “And you’re sure you didn’t let him in?”

 

“Honey, face like that, he’s not getting into honest bars until he’s forty. Are you sure he said he was coming here?”

 

“He said the bar was called Manhole, but I didn’t know where it was but Puck said he did and now we’ve driven all the way out here and he’s not here, and…” Mercedes swiped the tears that were welling up away and bit her lip.

 

“Okay, don’t cry, it’s going to be fine. Here’s what we’ll do,” the bouncer said. “I’m going to go inside and look for your friend. Once I’ve checked, we can go from there. We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

 

He disappeared through the door, and Mercedes busied herself with drying her tears and making _sure_ that Kurt hadn’t texted her to say he was okay and she’d just missed it. Puck was back beside her, but he wasn’t saying anything, thankfully.

 

The bouncer came back out. “He’s not there, but that’s what I expected. Where are you kids from?”

 

“Lima,” Mercedes said hesitantly.

 

“Okay, so what probably happened is that he’s at the south Manhole.”

 

“There’s a _south_ Manhole?”

 

“Yeah, and it’s got a bit of a reputation. Here at the north Manhole, we don’t let kids in, but the south Manhole is a bit more lax.”

 

Puck laughed suddenly, unsuccessfully turning it into a cough. Mercedes rolled her eyes, but the bouncer was chuckling too, and she gave in to the smile eventually.

 

“Sorry,” the bouncer said. “Couldn’t resist. It gets boring out here some nights and I’ve made up any number of puns on the name. Anyway, the south Manhole is down in Troy. I’ve got jokes about that, too, but I think most of them’ll go over your heads. A little too historical for the kids these days.”

 

“I guess?” Mercedes said. “So he’s in Troy?”

 

“No, Troy has a boyfriend.” The bouncer paused for them to laugh, but Mercedes could only force a smile for a second. “Huh, I thought you’d like that one. I’ll give my buddy down there a call though, see if he’s seen your friend tonight.”

 

“Oh god, thank you.” Mercedes sighed.

 

“No worries. It’s in everyone’s best interests that the baby gays of Ohio make it to adulthood without an arrest record.” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his tight jeans. “Let me see that picture again?”

 

Mercedes held it up and he examined it closely. “Okay, I got it.” He held his phone up to his ear, waiting. “Steve! …Yeah, I know you’re on shift, so am I. Listen, I’ve got some kids here looking for their friend. He’s sixteen, pale, brown hair, twinky with a big nose.” He listened for a second then looked at Mercedes. “High-pitched? Goes by Kurt?” Mercedes nodded furiously. “Yeah, sounds like that’s him. You going to make sure he gets home alright? …Okay, take ‘er easy bud. Thanks.”

 

“There you go, kids, your friend is just fine. Having himself some illegal fun, but the boys down there’ll take care of him and get him home safe. You should just take yourselves home.”

 

“Works for me,” Puck said, shoes scraping against pavement. “I haven’t been home in a few days and my mom’s probably getting worried.”

 

“Then you should definitely go home, kid. Get out of here, tell your mom you love her.” The bouncer crossed his arms again, all muscle and sinew and thin-pressed lips, and Puck walked away quickly enough that Mercedes was worried he’d forget her and just drive off.

 

“Thank you for your help!” she said quickly. “I’ll, uh, keep better track of Kurt in the future?” Her voice rose involuntarily into a questioning squeak, and she chased after Puck, calling “goodbye!” over her shoulder.

 

“He was _scary_ ,” she said, closing the passenger side door behind her.

 

“Nah,” Puck said, backing out of the spot and putting the car in drive.

 

“You sure left fast for someone who wasn’t afraid,” Mercedes pointed out.

 

“Or maybe I just didn’t want to stick around there all night. Hummel’s fine, this was all for nothing.” They pulled back onto the street and started off.

 

“Sure.” Mercedes left it there and let the conversation drop, texting Quinn that Kurt was probably still alive, and she’d call her in the morning. It was quiet until they were pulling back onto the highway, when a weird combination of guilt and curiosity pressured her into asking, “So, how are you doing?”

 

“Fine.” Puck didn’t look at her to answer.

 

“With Beth and everything? You’re fine?”

 

“Yep. She’s going to be taken of, come next year I’m going to be top dog again, everything is good for the Puckasaurus.”

 

Mercedes wasn’t sure why she was taken aback that Puck wanted to be popular again, but it stung a bit anyway. “So everything’s going back the way it was before the baby? Before glee? Really?”

 

“No,” Puck denied quickly. “I like glee, I’m not quitting. But like, I’m a stud. I should rule that school.”

 

“Puck, as far as I can tell, you’re currently on the run from the husband of someone you had sex with. I might not be that experienced, but that doesn’t really scream “stud” to me.”

 

“I’m not ‘on the run’, I just don’t want him to find me.”

 

“Okay, I think that you need to think about that sentence some more,” Mercedes said. “And seriously, why is this guy chasing you? His wife is the one that cheated.”

 

Puck shrugged.

 

“Well, maybe you should just stop having sex with married women who went to high school with your mom. I thought you were trying to be better, and going back to being that guy that tossed people into dumpsters and had sex wherever he could seems like a backwards step.”

 

“I _am_ better,” Puck said sharply.

 

“Yeah, you are. I don’t know why you’d want to change that. Aren’t you happy? I’ve _seen_ you in glee, you can’t pretend that you don’t love it more than playing the role of the popular guy. Why do you think you need that?”

 

Mercedes cut herself off before she started ranting, and Puck looked between her and the road quickly. “You’re totally Racheling me right now, dude.”

 

She drew herself up indignantly. “Oh no, you do not give me that. I _know_ you care. Did you or did you not volunteer to drive an hour each way to a _gay bar_ to make sure that Kurt was okay? That’s not the sort of thing a person who cares more about being popular at McKinley than his friends does. It just isn’t.”

 

“I never said I cared more about being popular than you guys, okay?” Puck said. “You’re making things up.”

 

“Being popular and being friends with people like me and Kurt doesn’t exactly go hand-in-hand, you know, especially since neither of us are going to be on the Cheerios next year. What are you willing to do to be popular again?”

 

Puck didn’t reply, but his jaw clenched.

 

Mercedes laughed, surprising even herself. “If I could talk to myself in September and say that in June I’d be driving around with Noah Puckerman on a Saturday night to find my best friend, I’d call myself a liar, because not only did I not have a best friend back then, I barely had friends at all, and you’d probably just thrown a slushie in my face. You’re a better person then you were, I am too, and I like you now. Hell, I think _Artie_ likes you now, and that boy can nurse a grudge. He’s _still_ mad that he wasn’t on the glist and it’s been months, but he’s somehow completely over the things you did to him.”

 

“Yeah, well, me being so badass is why he wasn’t on the glist anyway, so maybe he should be holding onto that,” Puck mumbled, but he looked pensive rather than angry, so Mercedes was going to assume that of the two dumbass boys she’d talked to tonight she’d actually made it through to one.

 

Puck’s phone lit up in the cupholder where he’d dropped it, displaying a number and an incoming call icon. “Is that him?” she asked.

 

“Yeah,” Puck sighed. “I’ve got to stop leaving my card.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

Puck pulled over to the side of the road and stopped, killing the engine. “I’m going to talk to him.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, really. You’re right. I want to be better, so I’m not going to hide from this dude.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m going to apologize for banging his wife.”

 

“That’s a good start, but you could also tell him how old you are,” Mercedes said. “He might not know he’s been threatening a high schooler.”

 

“Hello?” Puck said, flipping the phone open. “…Yeah. …Yeah, I’m sorry about that, but I can’t control what the ladies want.”

 

 _Not a good apology_ , Mercedes mouthed.

 

“I mean, I’m sorry I helped your wife cheat, it’s kind of a thing I do.”

 

“You are terrible at apologizing,” Mercedes said, abandoning being quiet. She could hear the man yelling from where she was sitting, it wasn’t like he was going to hear her.

 

Puck shrugged, tilting the mouthpiece away. “Not like I’ve ever done it before.”

 

“Tell him how old you are,” Mercedes repeated. “Some of the things he’s saying can’t be legal.”

 

“Dude, you know I’m sixteen, right? I didn’t make your wife do anything.” It was quiet suddenly. “…No, I am. …Yeah, I know, I’m just built. …Whatever dude, it’s not going to happen again. I’m turning over a new leaf or something.” He flipped the phone shut and smirked. “He hung up on me.”

 

He held his fist out, and Mercedes bumped it with a grin. “Nice work.”

 

“Damn straight.” Puck turned the ignition, pulling off the shoulder with a screech of tires in the loose gravel. “I never thought of hiding behind my age before. Probably because I’ve been lying about it since I was twelve.”

 

“That’s…”

 

“Awesome, I know.” Puck sped up until they were rocketing down the highway back to Lima.

 

“Yeah,” Mercedes echoed, biting everything else back. “Awesome.”

 

~

 

“You’re getting ready to drive to Troy now, aren’t you.”

 

“He should be back by now,” Mercedes said, her foot twiddling nervously. “We’ve been out here for hours.”

 

“Nah, it’s still only 2. If he’s not back in a couple of hours, then it’s time to assume he got laid. Or murdered, I guess, but the bouncer guy said he’d be fine.”

 

Mercedes looked up at the dark hulk of Kurt’s house. “He is so lucky his dad’s not home,” she said to distract herself.

 

“You’ve said that like five times now. Seriously, loosen up a little.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “I guess I’m a little tense.”

 

Puck opened his door suddenly, stepping out. “Where are you going?” she asked.

 

“Back seat,” he said. “It’s getting cramped up here, c’mon.”

 

“This is a slight step up from every other time you’ve tried to get me into the back seat of your car, but you’re still kind of obvious, Puck.”

 

“I’ve got a winning system,” he said, teeth flashing in the dark as he smirked. “Don’t say you’re not considering it.”

 

“I’m _not_ considering it,” Mercedes said, but she opened her door anyway, letting in a rush of cooler air. Sue her, it was _boring_.She stood up, watching Puck over the roof. “Clothes stay on.” Puck nodded vigorously. “ _All_ clothes.”

 

“Yeah, I got it.” Puck opened his back door and closed the front one with a startling bang. “Coming?”

 

Mercedes pulled the handle, but the door didn’t budge. “I guess not,” she said, the tension snapping as she laughed. “Your back door’s busted.”

 

“Oh yeah. Forgot. This one works, though,” he said hopefully.

 

“Oh look, someone’s here,” Mercedes said, pointing down the street to where two sets of headlights had just turned onto it. She grinned as Puck’s shoulder’s slumped in disappointment, but as the vehicles came up the block she realized belatedly how suspicious it looked to have two kids standing in a driveway that wasn’t either of theirs. The one in front was definitely Kurt’s Navigator though, so they were fine.

 

It wasn’t Kurt who got out of the driver’s seat when it parked in front of the house, though. Instead, two large men with matching mustaches and complementary leather outfits got out, one from the car and one from the Navigator, and then helped a wobbly-looking Kurt out of his passenger seat.

 

Mercedes and Puck met at the trunk of his car as they inched forward. “Looks like he didn’t get laid after all,” Puck whispered sadly. Mercedes smacked his arm, anything to get him to stop saying stupid things in front of the adults.

 

Despite the over-large leather cap on his head, Kurt looked proud of himself, and happy, and decidedly not murdered. One of the men looked like he was missing a cap, the lines from it still on his bald head, and Mercedes could only presume that Kurt had gotten grabby-handed at some point.

 

She didn’t know what to say, though, so she just watched as they directed Kurt up the driveway.  The bigger of the two men smiled down at her as he passed over possession of Kurt’s arm, and she didn’t even have to ask for Puck to take his other one, but even so they were just barely holding Kurt’s drunk ass up.

 

"Are you in my fight club?" the man who was standing in front Puck asked suddenly, staring down at him with a slightly chagrined expression on his face. The other one poked him, giving him a significant look, and he said, "Oh, that's right. Rule one. Nevermind."

 

They waved as they got back into their car, and Kurt shouted, “Bye guys! Text me!” at his new friends, probably loud enough for his father to hear from Finn’s house.

 

“Kurt!” Mercedes scolded, but he ignored her, grinning hugely.

 

“I just had the best night ever,” he informed her, slurring his words together.

 

“That guy was totally from my fight club,” Puck said. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

 

“He was there to fight, Puck, not pick you up. He clearly has a boyfriend,” Mercedes said.

 

“They’re in love, and it’s _adorable_ ,” Kurt said, yawning.

 

“Don’t think you’re off the hook because you’re drunk,” Mercedes said. “I can’t believe you hung up on me. I thought you were going to die.”

 

“Sorry, ‘Cedes,” Kurt said, blinking slowly at her. “If it’s any consolation, I thought I was going to die too, but then they turned out to be nice.”

 

“Actually, it kind of is,” Mercedes said. “You know we were driving around all night trying to find you?”

 

“Really?” Kurt said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Aw.” He gave Mercedes a clumsy (but mercifully dry) kiss on her cheek, nearly losing his hat in the process, and smiled toothily at Puck.

 

Being angry could wait for the morning, she decided. “I see you have a new hat,” she said, slowly beginning to manoeuvre Kurt towards his front door.

 

“Isn’t it cool?” Kurt burbled. “Zippo said I should have it. It’s special, you can’t buy them.”

 

“What do you mean, you can’t buy them?” Puck asked incredulously. “It’s a hat.”

 

“It’s a _special_ hat for tough gays, and for it to be legi-legitimate you can’t buy it. Zippo said so.”

 

“What’s Zippo going to do then?” Mercedes asked, unable to resist. “He doesn’t have a hat anymore, and he can’t buy one, so he doesn’t get to have a hat ever again?”

 

She meant it to be teasing, but Kurt looked genuinely horrified, like he was going bolt after their car any second to return the hat. Mercedes tightened her grip just in case, but then he relaxed. “He must make them,” he decided. “It’s okay.”

 

“This is the story I’m telling at your wedding,” Mercedes said as Puck snorted a laugh. “Your dad is going to have a fit.”

 

“I’m getting married in this hat,” Kurt announced.

 

“I’m not going to hold you to that in the morning, don’t worry.” Mercedes pulled Kurt’s keys from his hand, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Couch or your bed?”

 

“Bed. I can do it.”

 

“Where are we going?” Puck asked.

 

“His room’s in the basement, but I think he’s going to have trouble with the stairs.”

 

“You’ve got me,” he said, flexing his free arm. “He’s going to get down those stairs.”

 

“Please don’t push me down the stairs,” Kurt interjected.

 

“No one’s going to push you down the stairs,” Mercedes said, patting his arm.

 

“Good.”

 

Mercedes pushed open the basement door, flicking on the light. The stairs looked steeper than they ever had before, but that was probably a product of the daunting idea of getting a swaying Kurt down them.

 

“Okay, I got this,” Puck said. Kurt squeaked as Puck bent and wrapped his arms around his waist, lifting Kurt over his shoulder as he stood.

 

Kurt clumsily grabbed at Puck’s waist. “No, no, no, no, no, there’s no dumpster in my room, put me down.” His hat was falling off, so Mercedes took it, and he turned wide, wounded eyes to her. “This is not acceptable.”

 

“You’re fine,” Mercedes said. “Probably.”

 

Kurt squawked and froze when Puck stepped down the first time, holding perfectly still. “Um, maybe try not to jostle him too much,” Mercedes suggested.

 

“I know,” Puck said, the _duh_ only implied. “What he did on Pillsbury’s shoes is still legendary.”

 

“Not my fault,” he mumbled.

 

“No, it was,” Mercedes informed him. Puck stepped down again, moving slowly and carefully, and Kurt slowly relaxed. “You okay?”

 

“I’m floating.”

 

“Yeah, that’s just straight up not true, Hummel. You’ve put on weight,” Puck said, grunting as he stepped down again.

 

“You’re just jealous because I’m tall,” Kurt said cheerfully, unhappiness forgotten.

 

“Whatever, I’m taller than you are.” They were almost halfway down, turning the corner.

 

“Are not.”

 

“Yeah, I am.”

 

“Pffft,” Kurt said, letting his head flop. “Are we there yet? I don’t like being upside down.”

 

“We’re not getting to the bottom until you admit I’m taller,” Puck said, and he was actually affronted, what the hell.

 

“I’m going to puke on your butt,” Kurt said contemplatively. Puck rushed down the last few steps, as Kurt breathlessly giggled, “No I’m not, I swear I’m not, don’t drop me!”

 

Puck slid Kurt off his shoulder at the bottom, keeping one arm around his waist as he sagged, still giggling. “Consider yourself lucky I didn’t just drop you.”

 

“As if you would,” Kurt said smugly. “Mercedes would beat you up.”

 

“No, probably wouldn’t,” Mercedes said, dropping his hat on a chair. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed.”

 

Kurt walked willingly over to his bed, sitting down and tugging at his shoelaces until the knots let go. He nearly fell off the bed trying to get them off though, and rather than let him strangle himself trying to do the same thing to his bowtie Mercedes untied it for him.

 

He squirmed onto the bed, pressing his face into a pillow and closing his eyes. He looked almost cute, but Mercedes was tired enough to pretend he wasn’t. “You okay?” she asked. Kurt nodded, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Go to sleep then, you’ll regret this in the morning.”

 

He mumbled something that was either “shan’t” or “hat”, already breathing steadily, and since Mercedes didn’t think he’d turned British, she grabbed the hat and pressed it into his loose hands, watching with fascination as they curled around it possessively.

 

“You should probably get him something to drink,” Puck said.

 

“He’s had lots to drink,” Mercedes said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Water,” Puck clarified. “You’re supposed to give drunk people water.”

 

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Kurt was gone, sleeping more soundly than she’d ever seen him.

 

Puck shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, well, what now? You need a ride home?”

 

“No, I had to tell my mom I was sleeping over here for her to let me out. If I turn up at home I’ll have to explain things.” Puck looked almost disappointed. “You going home?”

 

“Yeah. I told my mom I was at Finn’s, but I guess I should. See ya.” He was definitely disappointed, but Mercedes couldn’t tell if it was residual from the make out in the back of his car never happening, or because he actually wanted to spend more time with her.

 

“You could stay if you wanted,” she offered. “Hang out. No funny business, it’s just weird when Kurt’s in the same room, but if you wanted to talk…”

 

“Seriously?”

 

Mercedes couldn’t tell if he was appalled that she’d even suggested it or happy that she had, so she just shrugged. “Yeah?”

 

“Okay.”

 

~

 

Kurt Hummel awoke after the best night of his young life (bar a couple) to a blinding headache, a sore throat, and the sun streaming in his windows.

 

He lay there quietly, unwilling to move, as his memory returned to him slowly, like it was ashamed. There was a glass of water on his nightstand, and wow, he definitely owed Mercedes big time.

 

He sipped at the water, pushing himself more upright, and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Mercedes was on the couch, sleeping sideways with her head tipped against the back, and past her was… that moment was when Kurt reaffirmed to himself that he would never drink again, because anything that involved Noah Puckerman sleeping in his basement was something that could only keep sliding downhill from there.

 

Puck’s foot was propped up on the end of the couch, bare, with painted toes, the toe separator still in between them, and had Kurt seriously missed pedicures? Damn. However, that meant that it had probably just been a standard sleepover, even with Puck involved, and he was good to ignore it until the world stopped spinning.

 

He placed the water glass back on the table and pulled a blanket over his head, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to come back. Mercedes was going to be mad, he knew she was, so he’d put that off as long as possible. His hand brushed against cool leather as he squirmed to get comfortable, and he pulled his hat closer with a smile.

 

“Totally worth it,” he mumbled.

 

~

 

end


End file.
